vive, ride, ama
by tatty ted
Summary: Sixteen year old Victoria Miller leaves home trying to find a place where her dreams might come true. Instead, she ends up in a bigger nightmare then the one she's escaping from. When she meets Miriam Turner, will Miriam convince the young girl it's no good running from the past and to face her demons head on? - —Miriam/OC.
1. CHAPTER I

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vive, ride, ama  
_a casualty fanfiction_

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She's got one of those bedrooms with the posters over the walls, you know the ones with Kurt Cobain and Slipknot and another other band that's considered by teens of today to be emoish. She's far from being an emo though; she adores pink and purple as much as the girl next door.

Her hair is always immaculate, curls one day, straightened hair the next day. It's always different colours, blonde, brown, red, blue, purple. She always goes over the top with her hair dye, it costs her a bomb in money but she thinks it's money well spent.

Two tattoos, one on her left wrist, the other on her lower back. The first one she got she was fourteen, used her best friend's identification to get it. A large butterfly on her lower back, it's got purple wings, pink dots and she thinks it's attractive.

Her second tattoo is recent. Six months or so, it's latin and she loves that one more than the butterfly on her back. She's a straight A student at the local high school, always studies hard because she wants to get out of this shitty town before she falls pregnant by some benefits scrounger.

Dreams big, wants to become a Doctor, wants to be _successful_ and have everyone remember her name. She wants a house, not a bungalow on the east side with her sick Nanna. No, she wants a proper house to have a husband and raise a family and she's almost within touching distance of her dream.

Her GCSE's are coming up, they're the most important exams of her life otherwise she won't get to do her A-levels. And two days before they start, her good for nothing, alcoholic, benefit scrounging father turns up.

He ruins absolutely everything.

_e__/v/e/r/y/t/h/i/n/g. _Because to darling father, he doesn't care whether it's her GCSE's and her future. He ruined his and now he wants to ruin hers.

She tears down the posters on her wall and lies in a mess of torn posters and tears. Crying over a future she'll no longer have. Instead of the big house on the posh side with the husband and the children and the career as a Consultant, she'll have a house falling to pieces, living of benefits, each child to a different man.

She knows she _has _to leave, otherwise she'll die in a mixture of cigarette burns, broken bottles and a pain she's never felt before.

So she packs her bag, kisses her Nanna one final time and leaves town for a whole new adventure.

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**jottings** — a new short story, if you like it enough to favourite/alert, please leave me a review;3


	2. CHAPTER II

**notes** — this story is now rated T.

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**CHAPTER TWO**.

It's definitely an adventure. She takes a train and a tram and a bus to town and villages she's only ever been to in her wildest dreams. During the day she's like anybody else, a tourist with bright hair and a backpack. By night it's different.

She's just a girl who's homeless with nowhere to go. She sleeps in a sleeping bag in a doorway of a shop, hoping that she's not trespassing on somebody else's patch. Bruises and broken bones are something she doesn't want.

It's a sad life, she's sixteen, no GCSE's, no life. She's no longer immaculate, her hair is limp and greasy and she's lost that much weight that her cheek bones are protuding. She's aware of the fact there's only so much of sleeping rough, not eating and washing herself in public bathrooms she can do before she falls to pieces and crumbles.

She's no longer Victoria. It's Tori, she says with the sweetest accent only one can imagine. Tori's today. Tori's the future. Tori's a girl that has aged beyond her years in a short space of time.

She makes a friend, well, a girl who says she'll look after her. They spent the night in alley's, chain-smoking richmond cigarettes, drinking cheap cider and snorting powder. And she's all too aware that the money she's got is slowly disappearing but her friend tells her not to worry, she's got a solution.

It is a solution but it brings up its own problems. She has to wear a skirt that's a little too short and a top a little too revealing, walk up and down the street and hope the next guy in the car isn't a murdering bastard with a fetish for prostitutes.

She feels filthy and dirty when she's finished blowing him and shagging him that she blocks it out with more powder, more cheap cider and more sex.

—(round/round/round)

She gets into difficulties one evening. She's paid twenty quid to give a handjob to some dirty scouse but after the deed, he wants more. Obviously, he has to pay her extra but he doesn't like that.

He puts his hand around her throat and squeezes the life out of her. Then, when she's unconscious he beats the shit out of her and leaves her in a puddle of her own blood. When she comes too, she just grateful she's still got all her teeth.

Her Nanna always said she had a beautiful smile. She's covered in bruises though and her clothes are full of blood but she's grateful she's got her life. She heard of plenty of girls on the game who haven't been so lucky when a punter turned nasty. Some died.

She goes to a twenty four hour cafe, orders herself an espresso and sits in the corner. She watches the drunks stumble past the window and wishes she could experience their life for a day or two rather then sell herself on street corners.

As she trails her finger along the rim of her polystyrene cup she notices her nails and broken and bleeding and she sighs. It's only then that she sees a woman, an oldish looking woman staring at her from the other side of the cafe.

She instantly wonders why. The most obvious answer is that she's covered in blood and bruises and the woman's slightly curious. At the moment however, she's a little paranoid. She thinks everybody is out to get her.

She necks her coffee in one and stands up. As she does the scratching of the chair along the floor causes the three people in the cafe to look at her. When she feels their eyes on her, she blushes a deep red colour before leaving to go to the bathroom.

When she's in the bathroom, she tries to tidy herself up. She examines her bruises, wishing she'd brought her foundation with her to cover them up. As she touches the large bruise on her cheek, she gasps in pain.

As she runs the cold tap, the door to the bathroom opens and the woman from earlier stands there. The atmosphere is awkward between the two before the woman asks; "Is everything okay?"

And for a moment she leaves the question to linger.

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**jottings** — like it enough to favourite/alert, don't forget to review;3


	3. CHAPTER III

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**CHAPTER THREE**.

She's never been one to find comfort in a stranger. Pouring her heart out and stuff, that's never been in Victoria's bones let alone Tori's. Still, she finds herself trusting this woman. There's something about her, something warm. Victoria doesn't know why, she could be a murderer or a psychopath for all she knows.

"I don't know." She admits. It's true. Nothing is right, nothing is wrong. She's not sad but she's not happy either. She's pretty much numb and she can't blame it on the cocaine as that's worn off. All she wants is for things to go back to how they were. The woman doesn't say a word, just keeps watching her.

"I'm Miriam." She says softly with a smile. Victoria nods, its nice to put a name to a face she thinks.

"Tori, Victoria." She answers back before there's a silence and she nervously bites her lower lip.

"How did you get the bruises?" She asks. Victoria looks at the floor before she mutters, "I fell down the stairs."

Miriam nods. She's already concluded that the girl in front of her has either had an accident or somebody's beaten her up. She wonders if it's the latter because the girl seems scared that somebody's going to get her.

"Have you seen a Doctor?"

Victoria continues to bite her lower lip, wondering why the woman insists on asking twenty-one questions. She shakes her head, a strand of dirty blonde hair falling in front of her face. She tucks it behind her ear and smiles a little. She wants to know who the woman is and why she's so interested in her.

"Can I buy you a coffee? We can talk if you like?" Again she allows the question to linger before she answers. She doesn't know why she accepts the invitation of coffee and a chat from a woman she's never met until this evening.

It could be because the woman is a stranger and the chance of them ever meeting again was pretty slim.

She sits opposite the woman, observing her mannerisms whilst hoping she isn't some kind of serial killer who'll lock her in the basement or something. She fiddles with the lid of her coffee cup, wondering what to ask. She's glad when the woman breaks the silence first.

"Did you really fall down the stairs?"

There's a silence for a couple of minutes; "No, I'm on the game." She's ashamed as well as embarrassed that she sells her body to make a living. It's hardly anything to tell the grandchildren when she's older is it? (_"when i was your age, i used to sleep with people for money.")_

She often finds herself questioning why she chose prostitution. Why selling her body to men seemed so appealing. The answer's quiet easy because it's the only way to pay the bills. The woman doesn't comment, how can she? Instead she asks why the seemingly bright, innocent girl chose prostitution?

Victoria, Tori sighs. She fiddles with the lid of the cup again before she makes eye contact with the woman and answers;

"I had no choice, it was the only way to pay the bills."

"Easy money?"

She nods slowly, "You could say that."

There's a silence again and Victoria continues to run her finger along the inside rim of her coffee cup.

"You're not from around here are you?"

She shakes her head, once again a strand of hair falling in front of her face. As she tucks it behind her ear, she answers,

"No, Crawford originally." She takes a sip of the coffee before realising that its cold and pulling a face.

"Why did you leave?" Miriam's aware she's probably asking too many questions and that at any minute, the girl will stop answering. Victoria takes another sip of her now cold coffee, looks down at the coffee table and then makes eye contact.

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**jottings** — one more chapter to go, thank you to everyone who's reviewed/alerted/favourited. :3


	4. CHAPTER IV

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**CHAPTER FOUR**.

"Why I left home?" She pauses for a moment, "My father's a drunk, he'll beat me up as per usual. My Nanna, she's dying. Stage four cancer. I had dreams you know, I really wanted to become a Doctor but — dad came back didn't he?"

She sighs. It weird to think three months ago she was _innocent_ so to speak.

"I left because I didn't want to be in a world of being hit and battered and bruised every hour of every day. But if I'm honest with you, I'd rather go home and be hit then sell myself to random men for money. This shit is tough."

Miriam sighs. Victoria's young and she should be out playing with her friends and doing what other children should do. Not taking care of a sick grandma and selling herself because she's got nothing else.

She thinks for a moment before she pushes a twenty pound note in the girl's direction and says with a smile, "Go home."

Victoria looks down at the twenty pound note in wonder. Could she really just take this woman's money and follow her advice? As she looks up to say thanks, she notices that the woman's disappeared. Then she smiles gently, rolls the twenty pounds up and sticks it in her bra.

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Three months since she'd been gone and the town looked exactly the same. The only difference is her Nanna's bungalow. When she left, the hedge was overgrown, weeds growing in every direction. Now it was nice, pretty even.

The hedge had been cut back, flowers planted in every corner and a garden fence had been put in place.

She takes a deep breath and knocks on the door. She steps back when her fahther answers because he looks completely different to how she remembers him.

(She's different too.)

"Dad?" She says gently. The man who used to be her father had been replaced. Gone is the man with wild hair, on the skinny side and who always stunk of stale cigarettes and cheap cider. In his place stands a man with a decent haircut, a bit of muscle on him and smelt of aftershave.

She can only dream that he's given up the booze for life.

"Victoria?" As her father says her name, she smiles, a smile that's genuine and reaches her eyes. They stand looking at each other, neither of them knowing what to do. Eventually, they both step forward and embrace each other.

"I'm sorry." He whispers into his daughter's ear. When she left home three months ago, he thought he would never see her again.

"I'm sorry too." She whispers back. She really was sorry for leaving home and causing her father that heartache. She knew that everything really did happen for a reason and this story had a happy ending that they were able to write together.

And to think it was all down to a stranger in a cafe who gave her twenty pounds to return home.

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**jottings** — FINISHED. I really need to get a life and stop writing these short stories. Sorry for boring you guys. If you like it enough to favourite, please leave a review. Also, a big thanks to those who followed/favourited/alerted and most of all, read. Until next time :3


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